


Sad Hearts Awaken

by SailAweigh



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gift Fic, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:03:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailAweigh/pseuds/SailAweigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Len cooks, Jim angsts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sad Hearts Awaken

Len looked around the kitchen and took a deep breath in. The scent of the mulling spices steeping in the pot of apple cider sitting on the stovetop suffused the air. The cream tile countertop was covered in the myriad ingredients and dishes collected for the holiday dinner. A smoked ham sat in a roasting pan waiting for the honey-thyme glaze. There was sweet potatoes casserole and chestnut stuffing sitting by the side waiting for their turn in the oven, as was the corn bread batter he'd just poured into it's baking dish. Another pan, yet, held a vegetarian lasagna. One open window on his tablet had a list of times for when each item went in the oven; he'd learned the hard way about timing. A panoramic sweep of the kitchen gave Len a deep satisfaction that everyone would be provided for tonight.

Swiping his finger over the tablet he'd loaded with that night recipes, Len took a minute to look out the window that sat over the kitchen sink to the crowd in the back yard. Despite the chill outside, he could see the majority of the command crew of the _Enterprise_ chatting spiritedly with each other as they took turns bowling with the colored balls of the bocce set. It was one of many outdoor activities he'd stocked up on for the holiday visit. He gave himself a mental pat on the back at the success of his choice. Low key enough it wouldn't wear Jim out, but still allow him to participate in outdoor activities with his crew.

The participation was the key element of the activity. While there were plenty of books in the library and every bedroom had a vidscreen for personal viewing, one of the primary reasons for inviting everyone to the house had been to promote bonding between the members of the command team. After the debacle of Khan and Jim's death (mostly dead, Len kept reminding himself), the need of the crew to see, hear, touch, and otherwise be close to their captain was a necessary part of the psychological healing of them all.

Len had chosen this game for that reason: bocce required collaboration between teammates to achieve its objectives. It played to the natural competitiveness of the individual members, yet promoted team building. Who said he needed a degree in psychology to use a little of it on his crewmates?

Hikaru and Pavel, thick as thieves as always, had paired up as a team and were undoubtedly kicking the asses of Spock and Nyota. Mathematical genius that he was, Pavel could figure trajectories and vectors in his head like nobody else, except maybe Spock. But Pavel had Hikaru by his side and Hikaru had a steady and precise arm, consistently hitting his target every time. Off to one side, Joanna and Jim were huddled together whispering to each other, probably plotting world domination, much less how to dominate the game. 

As he studied the pair, Joanna looked up at the window and gave him a cheery wave, poking Jim with her elbow and pointing towards where Len was watching them. Jim turned his face up to the window and gave him a broad smile. Len gave him a thumbs up with his eyebrows raised in question and received a circle made of thumb and forefinger in return. With a wink of one bright blue eye, Jim blew him a mocking kiss, his arm flying wide before spinning to put an arm over Joanna's shoulder to direct her over towards the game where everyone was now waiting for one of them to take their turn. Len turned back to his tablet to start doing what he did best: taking care of his crewmates any way he could. And in this case, that meant feeding them. Sure, he was a doctor, but sometimes he actually _could_ be something other than what it said on his diploma.

The next thing up on the day's menu would be hot cocoa for the players, one of many specially adapted recipes. This recipe was mostly for Spock's benefit, replacing the chocolate with carob, and coconut milk for dairy milk While he personally thought the sight of a tipsy Vulcan would provide blackmail fodder for at least the upcoming five year mission if not beyond that, it really wasn't fair when he'd declared alcohol off the menu for Jim until he completely recovered from being (only mostly) dead and it wouldn't interfere with any of his medications. His own orders left him a bit wistful as he was known for his hot toddies (mint juleps in the summer), but he wasn't going to tease Jim by serving everyone else booze while he had to abstain. 

He hadn't felt at all guilty using a little chicanery to get Jim to testdrive the faux-chocolate beverage for him. Len had persuaded Jim with the excuse that he couldn't exactly test it on Spock, since it was meant to be a surprise for him. And as the chef, well, Len's opinion was biased and _only Jim_ could be relied upon to tell him the truth. Especially with his finicky tastes and topsy-turvy immune system. What Jim didn't know about was the protein powder (soy, not whey, to account for Jim's lactose intolerance) Len had mixed into the version made specifically for Jim. 

Unfortunately, just replicating the drink had been off the table from the start. The deprivations of Tarsus IV had had unexpected consequences in a number of the survivors. Jim seemed to have synthetic protein detectors programmed into his tastebuds. Despite the fact that the replicators on the _Enterprise_ had been specially programmed for a different sequence of artificial proteins to account for Jim's digestive difficulties, he often refused to eat most of what the ship could provide him. It was amazing Starfleet had even been willing to take Jim with his allergies, leaving Len to wonder if Pike had done some minor under-handed politicking to get Jim accepted. Len thanked all the little gods of hearth and home for the hydroponics garden onboard the ship, which allowed him to include at least _some_ natural produce in Jim's diet: apples were golden.

Regardless, it all left Len frequently stumbling around in the virtual dark trying to create recipes out of disparate ingredients that didn't really match, ultimately ending up in a cobbled together gustatorial version of Frankenstein's monster. As long as Jim ate them, he didn't much care what they looked like or tasted like to anyone else.

After pouring the hot chocolate into a thermal carafe, Len grabbed the another carafe and filled it with the mulled cider. He placed them on a tray with paper cups turned upside down, a bag of little marshmallows for the hot chocolate, and cinnamon sticks for the mulled cider. Everything settled and stable, Len walked to the back door, opened it, and gave out an ear-piercing whistle towards the raucous crowd of players. 

"One of you get your ass over here if you want something to warm your hands and your stomach with."

With absolutely no hesitation, Pavel came running up to relieve him of the tray with its bounty. "I would like something hot, doctor. Would one of these be hot chocolate?" The question might have been quite innocent, but Len could see the way Pavel was sneaking glances towards where Spock was standing next to Nyota, their ungloved fingers placed lightly against each other's. 

Len stifled an exasperated sigh. "There's hot cider in the red carafe and vegetarian hot chocolate with carob in the other. You'll have to give it another try, another day, kid."

Pavel drew his shoulders back and puffed out his chest with indignation. "I have absolutely no idea to what you are referring, Doctor McCoy."

"Like hell you don't. Get out of here and go share these with the other miscreants." He shut the door in Pavel's face, laughing at the outraged look on the navigator's face at the abrupt termination of the conversation. Len took pity on him, though, and opened the door back up. "This is an intoxicant-free house party for the time being, Pavel," he said gently. "Even chocolate for Vulcans. Until the captain is back to full health, got it?"

The downcast and chastened expression on Pavel's face told him that he got it. "Yes, doctor. I am very sorry, I would not do anything to jeopardize the captain's health," he lifted his chin and nodded emphatically. "I will not let you down, I promise," Pavel assured him.

Len had a hard time not just patting Pavel on the head like a puppy. "I know you won't," Len offered as he went ahead and gave him a small conciliatory pat on the shoulder. Pavel heaved a sigh of relief and gave Len a small smile in apology.

"Now, get out of here, scram. The rest of this meal isn't going to cook itself." Len waited until Pavel descended the porch steps to the yard before he turned back to the kitchen and the rest of the dinner preparations. Time to start the crumble for dessert.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Len looked around the large dining room table, taking in the decimated remains of the meal. Mere scraps of food clung to the sides of the serving dishes, the ham had been carved nearly to the bone and the gravy boat for the ham drippings proved to be empty when Hikaru tipped it up in order to adorn his last piece of ham. Well, he'd have to improvise a little the next few days. No ham sandwiches, but maybe he could make a split pea soup with the bone. He'd make sure a smaller pot sans ham was available for Spock and Nyota.

The perpetrators of the massacre looked well replete after the feast. The entire household had descended on the provender like a swarm of locusts after a drought. Fresh air and hours of playful activity were undoubtedly the culprits. Although, it might just be his cooking, if he said so himself. He could get a big head about his culinary skills if he wasn't careful.

"Len, I'll have to start wearing skirts and pants with elastic waistbands if you keep cooking for us like this while we're here," said Nyota as she loosened the belt of her forest green tunic from around her visibly still very slim waist. "You're going to have to give me the recipe for that lasagna, it was fantastic."

"You're waistline is safe from me, most of my cooking runs to soups, salads and sandwiches. Fast, simple and nutritious is my motto. I've got a cookbook where everything is made with five ingredients per recipe and no more. Don't mind saying that having y'all here doesn't inspire me a little, though." Len leaned back in his own seat, poking at the remains of the apple crumble he'd made. Could he eat one more bite? He looked over at Jim's plate to see that it was so clean, it looked like he'd licked every last crumb off it. Len ticked off one more hurdle on the 'get Jim back to fighting weight' on his list of health indicators for the captain. Taking Jim as an example, Len decided he _could_ finish that apple crumble and forked the last bite into his mouth. Definitely worth it.

"If everyone's done eating, how about y'all pick out a movie to watch? Something suitable for all ages." On his left, Joanna rolled her eyes at him, but Len ignored her and started picking up dishes, stacking them to take into the kitchen. When Nyota stood up to help, he waved her away with one hand and pointed toward the family room. "Go."

Pavel spoke up first, "I'd like _A Christmas Story_. Ralphie never would have shot his eye out in Russia. In Russia we are born with rifles in the cradle." He yelped when Hikaru punched him in the shoulder.

"Like hell. I've seen your scores from the phaser range; you couldn't hit the broadside of a barn with the lowest stun setting," scoffed Hikaru. There were a few snickers from the rest of the group. 

"Maybe he just wants pointers on what _not_ to do," Joanna offered. "I'd be happy to loan him my b.b. gun for practice tomorrow."

Pavel's face turned red, but he nonetheless offered Jonna a strangled, "Thank you, miss." Laughter preceded them as they straggled into the family room behind the others. Len shook his head at the hijinks. He felt so _old_ sometimes, in the presence of the others. The only one who hadn't followed in the merriment was Jim.

"We'll put on _The Grinch Who Stole Christmas_ , Bones, so we won't miss you." Len could practically hear the smirk in Jim's voice. When he looked over, Jim had stood up and was in the middle of a big stretch, his back arched and his shirt riding up. It pleased Len to see that Jim's ribs were no longer so prominent and he was acquiring muscle definition once more, although it was the light trail of hair leading under the waistband of his jeans that really held his attention. Shaking the thought off, Len added his first observation as another box to tick off on the list.

"Just remember, this grinch is the one who signs you off as fit for duty." Silverware clanked against china as Len piled as much as he could on the top plate of his stack.

Jim grimaced at him, leaning his arms on the back of his chair. "Don't remind me. I feel like a fraud, spending so much time away from the dockyard. I should be overseeing the refit. And Scotty should be here, too; not spending all his time doing what I should be doing." He rubbed the back of his neck, then ran his hand over the top of his head, ruffling his hair into spikes and then smoothing it down; a typical tic of Jim's when he was frustrated.

Len looked him up and down, at the tense set of his shoulders and the downcast eyes, the way Jim was drawing into himself; might be time for an intervention before Jim talked himself into a mental breakdown. He'd been close enough to that in the first few weeks after he'd woken up from his coma. Len jerked his head towards the kitchen, "C'mon, help me clear the table and then we can take this where we can have a little privacy."

They spent the next few minutes quietly carrying stacks of dishes into the kitchen until the table was empty, the only sound the soft murmur when Len gave Jim instructions on where to deposit dishes. It was disconcerting to watch Jim follow orders so meekly, but Len shook it off while they completed the chores. The last thing Len did was remove the table cloth, folding it into itself to catch any crumbs before tossing it into the laundry bag for kitchen towels and the like which hung on the back of the pantry door. The dishes could wait until tomorrow; he'd hired a local high schooler to come in and do some cleaning to save him the hassle and fund the student's senior trip to Germany for the summer.

Everything was tidied away, leftovers stored safely away to Len's satisfaction, when he finally came to rest with one hip leaned up against the kitchen counter. Jim stood off to one side, his arms folded across his chest, shoulders hunched and once more closing himself away. It was a marked change of attitude from his relaxed interactions with Joanna that afternoon and then over dinner. Len needed to get to the heart of the puzzle; it was starting to appear to him like the only person Jim was having problems with was _him_ and that worried him.

"Okay, Jim, let's talk." Len made sure to keep his body language open and receptive, he didn't want to provoke Jim into taking a defensive position that blocked rational thought.

Jim grimaced, one foot scuffing at the linoleum like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. It smacked of insecurity and looked entirely misplaced on him. Jim always knew what he was doing, where he was going, or at least he acted like he knew. "You sound like someone breaking up with an ex," he blurted out. 

Len's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the way you've been avoiding me since you released me from medical. At least then I could count on you coming around several times a day. But even then getting you to talk to me about anything other than my health was like pulling teeth from a mastodon. And they're fucking _extinct_. You've been so distant I don't know if we're even friends anymore." Jim threw his arms out in emphasis before settling them on his hips, arms akimbo in practically an attack posture, his eyes boring into Len with accusation. It seemed he had still managed to provoke Jim to go on the defensive.

The confession left Len floundering a little, especially considering what he had _thought_ they were going to talk about and the way the conversation had taken a ninety degree turn toward what-the-fuck. Instead, Jim appeared to want to talk about feelings, his words exhibiting an insecurity that Len never expected to hear in regards to Jim Kirk. He had to admit to himself, though, that there was some truth to his words. When they were ass deep in that debacle with Marcus and Khan, with Jim constantly brushing off Len's professional advice, when Jim had become actively hostile, Len had decided to draw back and place a little emotional distance between them during Jim's recovery. Maybe that had been a mistake. He had thought that Jim and Spock had struck up a rapport that filled that need, but it appeared not to be the case. Or maybe it just hadn't quite got there yet. He'd had no idea before now that Jim had noticed his new reserve or that it bothered him.

Len scrubbed one hand over his face before he heaved a sigh and nodded in acknowledgement, "Okay, fair point. To be honest, I was a little hurt that you kept rejecting my assistance during our last mission. Damn it, Jim! I'm a doctor, your doctor, I'd be remiss in not treating you to the best of my ability and actively abandoning my duties is off the table. But above everything, you're my friend; I care about you whether it's my duty or not. I felt like you were repudiating that friendship. Especially when you thanked Spock for saving you as if I had nothing to do with that at all. Or Nyota, who risked as much as anyone else, for Christ sake! Unlike you and your Lone Ranger act, everyone leant a hand in saving your sorry ass." The last bit came out sounding both bitter and childish. 

"I,...I never meant it like that, Bones. I value everything my crew contributes." Jim's took a step back, letting his arms slide down to his sides, leaving him looking defenseless. He chewed on his bottom lip, then licked it absently to soothe away the sting. Len couldn't help following the movement with his eyes, but shook it off mentally to focus on Jim's words. "I guess I thought everybody would understand they were included. Kinda dumb for someone in command who should know that acknowledging personal achievement is as important as praising the team. Fuck." He tipped his head back and let out a huge sigh.

Len finally broke from his stance by the counter and took the steps necessary to bring him into touching range of Jim. He captured one of Jim's wrists in his hand, afraid of Jim backing off even farther, either physically and emotionally. "Listen, I have always been your friend and I always will be, but I can't take it when you shut me out, okay? I'm sorry that I let it get to me; I guess we were all a little stressed out and doing our best to cope in our own ways." Len searched Jim's face for understanding. He was happy when Jim gave a slow nod, his mouth tipping up in a small smile, the expression giving him a boyish look that took five years off his age.

Very much to Len's surprise, Jim took the opportunity to step in closer to him. His free arm grabbed onto Len's hip, tugging him close, while he laid his head on Len's shoulder, his breath huffing softly against Len's neck. It was the first time he could remember Jim showing him his softer side, even if he did tend to be pretty touchy-feely. Most of the time it was hearty backslaps or an arm over the shoulder: the more manly displays of friendship. He didn't want to read too much into it, but he wondered what had prompted the display.

Jim had apparently picked up mind reading as part of the side effects of the regenerative abilities of Khan's blood with his response mumbled into Len's neck, "I'm sorry for being an ass, Bones. But we've been friends since the academy and I thought you'd understand that I didn't have the time to spare from the mission. It was no reflection on you, personally or professionally." 

Len raised the arm not already holding on to Jim and placed it on the back of his neck, tipping his head up with his thumb so he was looking Len in the face with his bright blue eyes. "I get that. We were all pretty frantic, trying to stay one step ahead of Khan and Marcus." Len moved his thumb to rub soothing circles in front of Jim's ear. Those captivating eyes closed as Jim practically started purring from the attention. This was _nothing_ Len had ever expected, having pushed any thoughts of a more intimate relationship out of his mind years ago.

They stood there for a few minutes, while Len provided comfort and Jim allowed him the privilege, Len finally using the hand on Jim's neck to tug him back to his shoulder. Len choked up a little, happiness and hope blooming in his heart. Maybe, like the Grinch, he could finally allow his heart to grow into that space he'd always reserved for Jim.

Eventually, in what felt like far too short a time, and when it seemed nothing else was going to happen, he cleared his throat. "Hey, Jim. Think we ought to go join the others?"

"If we have to," Jim sighed out against his neck.

Len huffed in soft laughter, "It's what they need from you right now. I don't think you realize how much you scared them; they aren't going to want to be parted from you for a while."

"Yeah, you're right. And, honestly, I need it, too," Jim admitted. He straightened, pulling away with reluctance as his hands dropped to his sides. At least, Len hoped it was reluctance. He was about to step back and add more distance, when Jim leaned in and caught his mouth in a brief, hard kiss.

Len's heart seemed to stop for a moment, before it started up again, thudding loudly in his ears. "What was that for?" He felt almost dizzy with expectation.

"For putting up with me, for being there for me, because I wanted to, have wanted to for a long time." Jim tugged him back to him with both hands on his hips this time. "Do you mind? I didn't think you would with the way you've been touching me and letting me touch you."

Len circled Jim with his arms and pulled him in for a longer kiss, but not as long as he'd like. "Not at all, kid. But we've got the time to figure out where it's going. So, let's join the others and maybe I can teach the Grinch a thing or two about the size of hearts."

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift fic on [Happy Trekmas](happy-trekmas.livejournal.com) for [kitsuneyujji](http://kitsuneyujji.livejournal.com)


End file.
